


The Door We Never Opened

by hogwartshoney



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 17:28:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hogwartshoney/pseuds/hogwartshoney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>**Curry and memory - (http://nutrition.about.com/od/askyournutritionist/f/curry.htm )</p></blockquote>





	The Door We Never Opened

It all began with something burning.

Correction.

It all began with the _smell_ of something burning.

Severus paused, trying to identify the scent. In his line of business, much of the skill came from the ability to detect particles of ingredients purely by their smell or their taste.

He couldn't. It was slightly woodsy, slightly ashy but with an almost cloying quality to it. Ordinarily he would pick on it and ponder until he'd found the answer, but the Wolfsbane was more than halfway done and he needed all his concentration right now.

The moment passed, and he thought no more on it.

The smell came at him again some weeks later, but this time he was not in his potions lab. In fact, he was outside in the small garden behind the house, and whereas ordinarily he would have thought the smell to be something more readily associated with bushes and burning foliage, he remembered the scent and it set off alarm bells in his mind. Why would he smell the same thing in two different locations, especially in such vastly different surroundings? Severus had more time to devote to the pursuit of the answer, yet he found that he was no closer to identifying its source or even precisely what it smelled of.

With increasing frequency, the unnamed scent would toy with Severus, appearing unbidden at all times of day and night. He began to suspect that his olfactory sensors might be overloaded from the fumes of some of his more recent experiments, especially as he had been inundated with ideas both for making new potions and for improving some old ones. The rush of information felt as though a dam had burst and the floodwaters descended like a barrage on his mind and he almost couldn't keep up with the ideas.

Even with the new wash he'd made and modified precisely to remove all extraneous scents from his nasal passages, Severus still couldn't rid himself of the smell. It was infuriating.

 

~~*~~

 

"What do you mean, 'a tumour'?"

"Otherwise known as a neoplasm; it's an abnormal collection of cells-"

"I know what a bloody tumour is, you imbecile!"

"Severus…"

"No, Lupin. He's treating me like I'm some kind of ass."

"I'm sure he didn't mean-"

"Gentlemen, shall we both calm down for a moment?"

Severus fumed.

"Very well. Do go on."

Severus confessed that he didn't truly hear much after "It's in your brain". He saw the Mediwizard's mouth moving and realized that there must be sounds coming out, but the word 'tumour' kept repeating itself in his head.

Later, after he'd taken the Floo back to the house that he and Lupin shared, his hands still clenched around the documentation that the Mediwizard had provided, Severus stood and stared at the door to his potions lab. "Unknown carcinogens", the man had said. "Side effects from brewing Dark Potions" had also factored into it. "Extremely dangerous to treat" was what Severus had heard and that's what had stuck.

Lupin still appeared calm although he was clearly shaken by the news, and perhaps even more so because Severus had agreed to have the dangerous procedure done, although the outcome was anything but certain.

~~

“Lupin, you may not like who I become.'

Gentle brown eyes, warm in the glow from the dying logs in the fireplace, surveyed Severus critically.

“I think I'll manage," he said softly.

 

~~*~~

 

He opens his eyes to pain.

_Oh, what the **hell?**_

Blinding fucking pain too, pounding and pounding on the inside of his head, enough to make him snap his eyes shut again and grab his head with both hands. Just that brief movement makes his stomach lurch and he groans aloud, fearing that he may be sick all over himself. “Oh, sweet Merlin, what the _fuck?_ ”

There are sounds of urgent shuffling and immediately he is surrounded by people – he can feel their presence even though he’s not willing to risk opening his eyes just yet, and he’s _certainly_ not going to move his head again.

“At least he’s awake and lucid, thank Merlin. Severus? Can you hear me, Severus?”

 _Aaah! Talking too loud… hurts._ He cringes at another burst of pain and cannot stop a moan, and even though he wants nothing more to curl up, whimper and wait for the pain to go away he knows he shouldn’t- he can’t appear weak ever…. but _why_ he feels that way he can’t explain.

There are hands on him and something cold presses against his lips.

“Here, drink this.”

He registers two different voices; both are female and firm yet gentle. He feels cool liquid against his lips and instinctively he resists it, tries to pull his head back, but his brain’s too patchy to process any kind of coherent thought and he’s in no condition to fight although his body twitches with what feels like a ridiculous parody of battle preparedness.

“Stop fighting us Severus; just drink it.”

He’s about to shout at them, and in fact opens his lips just a fraction before he catches himself, but they’ve anticipated him – damn them – and some of the liquid flows over his tongue before he’s able to clamp his lips shut. He swats at the hands like some petulant child, hands flailing in front of him, eyes still scrunched tightly closed against the pain that’s only just begun to dull into the realm of ‘barely-survivable’.

“Well, _really_ , Severus. I expected that you would be combative post-surgically, but this is a bit ridiculous. ”

“Poppy, may I?”

Severus stills at the sound of a male voice and his heartbeat increases, not that his headache thanks him, mind you. It’s not out of fear nor caution, but there’s something about the man that’s significant.

“Of course, Remus. We should have thought… but medically, you understand, we had to see him first.”

“Yes, of course, Poppy.”

“Perhaps you’ll have more luck with him?”

An amused huff. “Yes, perhaps so.”

Eyes still closed, Severus counts the clack-clack of the woman’s footsteps as she leaves his bedside. Twelve steps to his left and she’s through the door. He has no way of knowing how tall she is, but it’s good enough as an average. He doesn’t know why he knows that the door opens inward, or that the room is a cool green with a white ceiling and dark wooden floors, but he just does.

He opens one eye a crack and sees a man with a gentle smile standing at the foot of his bed. He doesn’t appear to be too young – there are grey hairs aplenty, after all – but there’s a careworn look about him as well as something… familiar.

Severus half expects him to lunge or try something combative, and he readies himself to resist, but the man simply holds up a small vial of blue-coloured liquid.

“Will you drink this?”

Severus opens his mouth to refuse nastily, but somehow he doesn’t. Or can’t. Or won’t. Refuse, that is, and as the man slowly approaches, the vial in his outstretched hand, Severus eyes him carefully. Scarred face, longish hair, not particularly well dressed but appears clean, slow, fluid movements, nothing jarring or hesitant – this man is confident but quietly so. Interesting.

“Why should I?”

“You made it before- You made it for yourself.”

Severus narrows his eyes again but reaches out to take the vial. The label says, in fairly badly-scrawled penmanship, “First things first – drink this NOW”.

Exactly why he obeys isn’t clear, but the relief from pain is instantaneous and the hideous buzzing in his head recedes to a mere hum. He collapses back onto the pillows and lets out a deep sigh of appreciation. Tolerable.

 

“Remus.”

“Yes?”

“That’s your name?”

The man – Remus – closes his eyes briefly and Severus realizes that he’s in pain. Not the obvious kind; he doesn’t bend over or show physical signs of it, yet it’s clearly written all over him, in the hunch of his shoulders and the way his hands twitch almost imperceptibly towards his chest. The man is in pain, yet he takes a deep breath and seems to brush it off, extending his hand in introduction.

“Remus Lupin at your service.”

Severus shakes the proffered hand and is surprised by the warmth and the strength of the man’s grip. He’s also surprised by the tingling that’s left behind once they let go. Interesting.

“You’d asked me to keep this for you, y’know, in case… well, I suppose you don’t know. In any event, here.”

Remus hands him a black envelope and then leaves, lingering in the doorway for a moment before closing the door softly behind him. Severus turns the envelope over and over in his hands, noticing his name written in silver ink in a hand he doesn't recognise, yet somehow he knows that this is his own doing.

He takes a deep breath and breaks the seal, startling as several pieces of parchment slide out onto his lap. The handwriting is small, cramped. His own.

_You may not remember who you are when you wake up, but that may be an advantage._

_Your name is Severus Tobias Snape, half-blood child of Eileen and Tobias  
Snape._

_-You are the former Head of Slytherin House and an ex-Death Eater._

_-You do not like Potters in any permutation. Nor Weasleys. Nor Longbottoms.  
Nor anyone, really._

_-You are not popular and are widely considered to be a snarky bastard. Your reputation is well deserved_

_-You killed Albus Dumbledore, if you even remember who he was._

_-You have been pardoned for that._

_In all probability, the man who handed this to you is Remus John Lupin. He is your lover. Treat him well. You care deeply for him, even though you have never been able to let him know that, nor have you been able to articulate it properly, even to yourself. You write this in dire straits, and it is imperative that you know everything…_

Hours later, Severus lies back in bed, his mind reeling. Just what sort of monster was he?

 

~~*~~

 

Severus tries not to scowl at the twin expressions of medical interest on the faces of the women before him. Minerva McGonagall and Poppy Pomfrey conduct a rapid conversation in barely audible whispers but, even with his sharp hearing, Severus is unable to discern their words. Thankfully, memories of the Headmistress and the Matron were among his earliest returned, which is just as well – their continued efforts to have him imbibe unknown potions would have rapidly devolved into all-out combat.

It’s been two days since Lupin handed him the envelope. After his initial read-through of the papers he’d slept fitfully, troubled by vivid dreams both so completely realistic and all-encompassing and yet, upon wakening, utterly elusive of his mind’s grasping fingers. After breakfast, he’d gone through the notes again, page by page, trying to assimilate the information as best he could and even now, his head hurts. It’s a lot of information to take in, and he has been conflicted ever since, something which makes him unaccountably angry. His memories are returning slowly, greatly aided by his notes to himself, and that, in some ways, is a good thing, but when the memories come, it’s often in large chunks, as though great lengths of chain fall heavily into place, heralded by an uncomfortable clanging sensation in his brain that borders on pain.

He’s really bloody fed up with pain.

They glance over at him occasionally, Minerva and Poppy, and he thinks that a scowl might very well be in order if they persist with this ridiculous behaviour. He is saved from having to act on that however by the arrival of Remus Lupin who pushes the door open after a single knock and strides across the room. His calm authority demands Severus’ full attention, causing his breath to leave him in a rush and his very scalp to tingle. To be sure, Lupin’s loose and fluid gait appeals to Severus on some primal level clearly forgotten, but, even on the surface, Remus Lupin is no slouch.

Remus smiles briefly at Severus and confers with the two women, joining their low-pitched conversation for a few minutes. Severus wishes that his body wouldn’t react to Lupin quite the way it does; not only is it a trifle embarrassing to actually _feel_ lust surge through him, but he’s virtually certain that he broadcasts it in a painfully obvious manner, even though no-one seems to pay him much attention as he adjusts himself as unobtrusively as possible.

Even the occasional glance and softening of the lines around Lupin’s eyes aren’t enough to placate Severus who feels ire bubbling inside him like a barely-simmering cauldron of noxious stuff. Information is key in this exercise, after all, it’s _his_ memories that are at stake here, _his_ past and _his_ future!

Fortunately, after much nodding and noises of assent, they all turn to face him, and Severus draws in a deep, slow, and careful breath as he tries to tamp down on his growing irritation.

“Severus,” Poppy begins carefully, and the tone of her voice alone causes his irritation to notch up one. “It appears that the snake’s venom has modified some of your neural pathways, and the areas of the brain which deal with memory have been crossed with those of smell. Whereas we cannot say for certain,” and here she glances at Remus, almost nervously, Severus notes with narrowing eyes. “it is widely felt that once you are back in your regular environment and surrounded by familiar sights and, yes, smells, that the patches of your memory will work themselves through.”

Severus looks up quickly, his gaze darting from Poppy to Minerva and back again, hoping for some crack in their firm and, unfortunately, very final expressions. There is none. _Home… with someone I barely know. Merlin!_ He needs a moment to fully process what she’s just said, but unfortunately, his rage gets there first. Damn and blast them all with their medical calm and their “oh, let’s wait and see” attitude. Severus wants his memories back and he wants all of them NOW!

“So, what, I just return ‘home‘, sniff some flowers or a vial of potion and await an explosion of memories? What utter rot. I will simply get out of-! ”

A firm and quelling hand on Severus’ shoulder prevents him from rising, and Severus understands rather than feels the strength of the man behind him. He twists around nevertheless and glares angrily at Lupin who seems as unperturbed as Minerva and Poppy.

Lupin’s expression is firm but not unkind and it extinguishes Severus’ anger far more effectively than he’d have thought possible. He holds his head in his hands and exhales, long and slowly, trying for some sort of balance, equilibrium.

“Now, Severus, surely we can allow some time to pass?”

“Time? _Time?!_ Lupin, you don’t understand…”

“Severus, you lack any alternatives.” Severus raises his head in time to see Minerva’s almost hesitant glance at Lupin. “You’ll have to go… home,” she says carefully. “With Remus.”

 _Remus Lupin is an infuriating, exasperating, irritating man, but if you hurt him, I have laid spells that will bring you everlasting torment._ Severus supposes that he ought to listen to his former self in that regard.

Damn it, bugger and blast!

 

~~*~~

 

“Dogwood.”

“No.”

“Essence of wormwood.”

“No.”

“Turmeric.”

“No, and.. What?”

“Nothing, I just remember that you liked a spot of curry and it can help with memory loss.”**

 

“That‘s Alzheimers…”

“Sorry. Again. Aconite?”

“Don’t touch that!”

“I’m wearing gloves, Severus. Anything?”

“No.”

“Gurdyroot? Hellebore?”

“No and no.”

“Flobberworm mucus?”

“Lupin….”

“I’m trying everything I can think of, Severus. We’ve already been through the house and the garden, and now your lab.”

_Your potions lab is one of your most prized possessions. Do not let anyone infiltrate it. Ever. The password is ‘Wolfsbane’._

Severus sighs, hardly believing that he could have meant to include Lupin in those instructions to himself, written so explicitly, but regardless, here they are, perched on stools in his lab with a large number of items and ingredients lined up along the counter for him to smell and/or taste. He is exhausted, frustrated and with a headache in full force, yet he knows that the man is trying.

“Perhaps sleep will help you? After all, it‘s only your second day, and we have been at this for a while.”

 _Sleep._ “Yes, perhaps.”

He closes and re-wards the room, wondering why his former self wouldn’t want Lupin down there. Perhaps the aconite…

 

~~*~~

 

_Warm hands caress his face as golden-brown eyes stare at him, a smile lighting the face and his entire world. A tender moment, a warmth not only of body but of heart and soul. He is loved._

Severus comes slowly awake to the sound of low murmurs. Baritone and… one of a higher register, but he’s not able to discern just who it is. Slowly he descends the staircase, ever mindful of the step-before-the-last, the creaking bastard. The voices are slightly louder now and come from the direction of the drawing room. Severus feels almost ridiculous sneaking around a house which he supposedly lived in and certainly ought to walk about freely in, but he feels an understated urgency in the words or the tone of voice, and it makes him inexplicably uneasy. He remembers enough of his past to know that he must always trust his gut, and he glides closer to the door through which the voices are most clear.

“It’s just that… I have no clue of how to proceed.”

“But, Remus…” - a whisper.

“I just- I thought… He’s closer to remembering some things, his memories come back more every day, but… the memories of _us_ … they‘re not-”

“No. Listen to me. He needs you.” - a woman’s voice, urgent, pleading.

“But have I done enough? I keep trying to find ways to help him but… Sometimes it feels like there’s nothing… ”

“But you _know_ that’s not true. He’s trying; you know he is, you see it, and besides, all the Muggle medical journals say that it takes as long as it takes.”

 _Ah, yes. The Know-It-All._ Severus edges closer to the door frame where he can just see the girl -no, woman- in question with her hand on Lupin’s shoulder. And if Severus feels a hint of possessiveness roll through him, is that normal? He realizes that he doesn’t want her touching Lupin, comforting him. That should be Severus’ job, his duty…

_Remus holding Severus’ hands, a garden scene, soft dappled sunlight and an overwhelming sense of well being, of safety, of compassion, of love._

“Hermione-”

“No, Remus, you said it yourself, he’s improving. Think of that, and think of what you used to have.”

The silence is both impressive and frightening in its absoluteness and Severus hesitates a moment before he fades back into the shadows, leaning against the wall and cursing himself, feeling even more troubled than he has been.

Two weeks of living with Lupin and Severus knows this much. His memories return at an almost-satisfactory rate, he is able to brew relatively complex potions once more, he is no closer to closing the gap in his memories as they pertain to his relationship, and… Remus Lupin is an extraordinarily patient man.

Not that he’s a saint, oh, no. Severus has seen the fraying edges of the other man’s temper, seen it come close to shredding and has seen the almost-Herculean effort it took to prevent it from happening, and all the while Severus continues to push, push for answers, push for understanding, push for his memories to return, push Lupin, yet he’s not certain whether he’s pushing him to leave or testing whether he’ll stay.

Careful observation has shown Severus that Lupin is kind and considerate, with an earthy sort of confidence, almost organic. Severus fights against his ignorance, frustrated with his mind’s lack of cooperation when his body so clearly remembers Lupin; Severus is no prude but he can’t- he’s hesitant to fall into bed simply because of a physical attraction. He’s had too much of a rigid control over himself all his life; he’s forced himself to work past pain, hurt, anger, sorrow and a myriad of other emotions in situations where he had to just move on, continue, get the job done. This, although different, still rings of ‘something he can’t get a handle on’.

The scraping of a chair breaks Severus out of his thoughts and he just manages to grab a book and sit in the library with a nonchalant air before he hears the front door close. Looking up, he realizes that Lupin stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

“Was that Miss Granger?” Severus makes his tone as nonchalant as possible.

“Mrs Weasley, and yes.”

“Hmm…..” Severus turns another page, deliberately focusing on the book as Lupin walks closer even though every minute creak of the floorboards seems to whisper of his arrival.

“Dickens? I don’t remember you being a fan of Muggle literature, Severus.”

“I’m hardly who I used to be, Lupin. I suspect that it’s time that I try new things.”

Perhaps Severus imagines it, but Lupin’s eyes almost glow.

“I’ll certainly remember that.”

Severus doesn’t know what prompts him to stand and approach Lupin, but he does, spurred on perhaps by the new realization of what he’s heard or the images and memories that he has been experiencing, and he doesn’t want the image of a defeated man to be the one that pervades his mind tonight. It sounds almost ridiculous to his own mind, but he wants the feelings and the images - the memories of compassion and acceptance. Perhaps he wants that as much for himself as to share with Lupin, and he’s not even sure that he’s _ready_ to share with Lupin, but… he can’t risk losing what little he has.

“Lupin,” he begins slowly, unsure of every placement of words as a possible misstep, but he keeps going…. “I know this hasn’t been easy for you and I don’t wish to cause you undue distress, so… thank you.” Lupin’s eyebrows arch in surprise as a delighted smile plays across his lips, and Severus feels this strange urge to kiss them. He touches Lupin’s arm, suddenly aware of his own heartbeat thumping much louder than normal, the skin across his back tingling and a sudden surge of warmth in his face and neck. A flash of teeth shines through Lupin’s parted lips, the canine teeth slightly longer than the rest of them…

_A long, dark tunnel, … and a terrible crying howling groaning at the end, of a human being in pain and then… not so human. He hesitates, hearing shuffling noises ahead and he senses danger as the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He starts his retreat, eyes never leaving the darkness even as he stumbles backwards until…_

_His shoulder connects with something and there are hands grasping him hard, and he shouts out in surprise._

_“Snape! Get the hell out of here!”_

_Potter sounds terrified. A hideous growling snarling howling explodes through the tunnel and Potter shoves Severus ahead of him back down the tunnel and they’re running running lungs burning legs burning frantic to get away and Severus scrambles up the small incline and back out through the roots of the Whomping Willow with Potter mere seconds behind him…_

Severus shakes his head in an effort to dispel the memory, noting that Lupin’s smile has faded and that there is a greater distance between them now.

“I’ll just leave you to your reading, Severus.”

Lupin turns and is gone in mere seconds while Severus sinks back into the chair and ponders his most recent breakthrough. Whereas the memory is full of disturbing images and was clearly a traumatic time for him once, he doesn’t feel anything about it now. No rage, no fear, no humiliation; he understands that it happened, but it’s almost like a Pensieve memory - there’s no emotional attachment.

He runs a hand through his hair as he considers that perhaps, even if only this once, certain aspects of his memory loss mightn’t be such bad things after all.

 

~~*~~

 

Certain _other_ aspects of Severus’ memory loss, however, are considerably more problematic, in that the return of one memory will often trigger the return of two or several more. Whereas that’s often a good thing, Severus is unable to control what memories return, and he is literally at their mercy. Certainly there’s nothing untoward when memories return of stocking potions on his shelves or of Sunday breakfast with Remus; no, no, the problem lies with Remus’ expression at that breakfast, soft and loving, which triggers another memory of them in bed, the late-afternoon light filtering through the curtains as they kiss and caress, their lazy movements becoming more urgent with need, which triggers yet another memory… _of Remus, deep inside him, rocking, rocking, rocking, and Severus writhing beneath him, taking, taking, taking everything and wanting more, and as they both hurtle towards orgasm Remus’ breaths become pants which become growls, guttural and wild, and he pins Severus beneath him with the force of his orgasm, the hot pulses pulling a cry from Severus as he contracts around Remus, shuddering through his own release._

Severus awakens to an explosion of a headache and a lapful of cooling come. The images fade, almost too quickly to grasp properly, but he distinctly remembers the fierce look in Remus’ eyes of power and lust and possession, and even though the morning is quite warm, the exquisite almost-memory makes Severus shiver.

A shower and Headache Potion later, Severus is once more seated at the kitchen table poring over his notes. In the days following Granger’s visit, Lupin has been somewhat scarce, and Severus finds himself more than a little peeved by that. _Typical, just when I find myself in need of the man._ Severus removes his notes to himself from their box and re-reads them, discarding things that no longer apply.

The Floo flashes a soft red, indicating the Weasley household. Remus has charmed the flames to flash different colours depending on who’s calling, and although Severus thinks that largely unnecessary, it does help somewhat in knowing who he’s likely to speak with. Handy bit of charm work, that.

He peers into the flames as a bushy head appears. Ah, the Know-It-All.

“Oh! Professor!” she gasped excitedly. “Might I come through?”

“Lupin isn’t here, Miss Granger.”

“It’s ‘Mrs Granger-Weasley, and that’s fine - it’s you I wish to see, Sir.”

Oh.

“Very well. Proceed.”

He steps back just in time as the young witch steps through the fireplace clutching books and pieces of parchment. A whispered spell removes all the dust from her person and she gestures animatedly at the kitchen table. He nods resignedly and places his notes back into their box, setting it aside for the time being.

Minutes later, as they both sit clutching cups of tea, she finally bursts through with her excitement.

“I think it's psychosomatic.”

“What?”

“Psychosomatic - disorders can generally develop when a stressful life event occurs, when someone experiences chronic stress, or when negative and self-sabotaging thought patterns persist over many years.”

Severus was too shocked to even stop Granger in the midst of her explanation.

“I know what it is - Merlin!!! Why does everyone think I don't know these things - do I look like an idiot?”

“NO! Prof- Sir, of course not, but…”

“No buts, Miss Granger- _Weasley_ \- I was teaching before you were born and believe me I pored over books and research just as much if not more than you, so DO stop treating me as though this surgery has affected my mind.”

“But it HAS, Sir, and I know you and Remus have done a great deal of work on it, both together and apart, but... perhaps you're both too close to the situation.”

Severus bristled. He HATED it when the chit was right.

Granger eyed him cautiously “Now, there’s no secret that you’ve been under chronic stress, and negativity is a given-” Severus splutters indignantly, and she at least looks semi-apologetic, but forges on “But the stressful life event - well, your surgery would certainly be that.”

Severus pinches the bridge of his nose to stave off what feels like the return of this morning’s headache. “and what, if anything, would you recommend, Miss- Mrs Granger…Weasley?”

“That you relax, Professor. That you don’t worry so much about it; that you simply… ‘ be’ with Remus and see what you accomplish.”

“You obviously feel as though there’s nothing more to this than a simple hand-holding and deep conversation in the hall. Why would that change things?”

“When women try to get pregnant-”

“MISS Granger, I do hope you’re not suggesting-”

“No, Professor, but… just hear me out.”

He descends from his indignation, noting that she hasn‘t corrected him on her name this time. “Very well.”

“When women are desperate to conceive, often their bodies have a more difficult time because of the extra stress put upon them by their mindset. Once they relax, or give up, often they get pregnant very quickly because the stress and worry are no longer a factor.”

“And you’re suggesting that I….. de-stress?”

“Something like that, Sir. Perhaps if you and Remus would just… talk with each other about… oh, I don’t know, roses, or…. Potions… or…. Crups versus Kneazles…. Perhaps you will find what you seek.”

The more Severus thinks about her words, the more…. reluctantly….he tends to agree with her. Could it really be that simple?

After Granger departs through the Floo with a cheery wave and a know-it-all smile, Severus sits on the sofa deep in thought. Perhaps she’s right, but how do I ’relax’ enough around Lupin when there’s so much at stake; so much to find?

He sighs gustily and, exhausted, makes his way upstairs for a nap.

 

Severus groans, his eyes crusty with sleep and he stretches, feeling out of sorts. A quick glance at the clock confirms that it’s mid-afternoon and he’s slept rather more than he’d wanted. After splashing water on his face and a quick trip to the loo he heads downstairs to put the kettle on before…

“Lupin! You’re home.“

He tries not to cringe at how trite and cliché that statement is, and Lupin looks a bit nervous as he smiles.

"Yes, home. I finished early and decided that I'd spend some time with you this weekend, that is, if you'd like that, but of course I understand if you have other plans. I mean, I wouldn't..."

Severus wonders why Lupin is in such a fluster and decides to follow Granger's advice.

"No, Lupin, I've no plans. In fact, I thought perhaps we could spend some more time together?"

It's almost gratifying to see the cautiously joyful expression on Lupin's face, and somewhere deep inside of Severus, something relaxes. That expression.... it's oddly reminiscent of...

_He and Remus are sitting on a bench in the garden and everything is silent. He knows that Remus has just asked him to move into his cottage; to live together, and Severus, after a long pause that they both know was for show, has agreed. The pure radiance of Remus' smile, still cautious, but so joyful, sets the warmth of a flame alight in Severus' heart..._

Severus blinks the scrap of memory away, but he can still feel the happiness of that moment and the warmth in his chest, and impulsively, he takes Lupin's hand in his own, drawing the other man closer to him. Lupin inhales in surprise, a soft sound and a gentle parting of lips, and Severus kisses him, softly, but with intent, and although he still feels an edge of desperation for all the things he doesn't know, he also covets the warmth within him for the things that he does know.

Lupin responds eagerly, his arms wrapping around Severus' waist and torso as he settles into the kiss, letting Severus take control, and Severus knows that Lupin is allowing him control. When they finally part, several minutes later, they are both quite breathless, and Lupin smiles, almost shyly, as he squeezes Severus' arm.

"Yes, more time together sounds like an excellent plan."

Severus is surprised to find that he couldn't agree more.

 

~~*~~

 

The following day is surprisingly mild and, after a late tea on the grass in the back garden, Lupin lies back on the blanket and stretches, humming contentedly. Severus makes a concerted effort _not_ to stare at the lean length of him, the tilt of his neck as he basks in the late-afternoon sun, and especially not at the long and quiescent cock outlined by the stretch of the thin fabric across his front. All hope of that is dashed as Lupin digs into his (deep) front pocket, and Severus rips his gaze away to look up at the sky through the branches of the young trees in their garden. They had planted them just after Severus had moved in as a symbol of new life and new beginnings. The oak had been his choice, the holly, Lupin’s.

“Here, Severus, take a smell of this.”

Severus stares suspiciously at the long, thin rolled paper between Lupin’s fingers.

“Cannabis, Lupin?”

“Oh, don’t be a prude, Severus. Besides, it’s the modified version without the addictive properties.”

“Dare I even ask where you got it?”

Lupin flashes a quick grin. “You’d better not.”

“Very well. And this is supposed to help me remember? While killing brain cells?”

Lupin grabs Severus’ wrist and pulls him down onto the blanket. “Thiiiiis…” he says, smiling mischievously as he drags out the word, “is to help us both relax. If nothing happens, there’s no harm, and if, by chance, it does help, then it’s a win-win situation. It’s a lovely afternoon, we’re well fed and comfortable. Shall we?”

Severus quirks an eyebrow and Lupin laughs, sitting up and snapping his fingers to produce a light for the joint.

“Show off,” Severus mutters, even though he finds it ridiculously sexy, and it makes his spine tingle with something like excitement.

He watches the end of the joint flare to life, sees the reflection of the light in Lupin’s eyes, and admires - a bit grudgingly - the suction that Lupin applies to the tip, so much so that he shifts discreetly to avoid his trousers from… binding on things. He’s been half-hard from anticipation, watching Lupin all day, and Lupin’s been watching him, and the tension in the house is thick, although not uncomfortable. Just … thick.

Sitting on the grass with Lupin smoking cannabis , Severus is suddenly a teenager again, lurking on the edges of the Forbidden Forest and watching the four of them, Potter, effortless in his charisma, Black, similarly effortless with his hair and his money and his sex appeal - and, yes, even Severus could see that for what it was - Pettigrew always the pathetic man out, and Lupin… with the laughter and the shadows behind his eyes, the secret that made the corners of his mouth not quite reach their full potential in the smiles he gave to his companions. Severus hadn’t realized it then, but he does now.

Lupin watches him carefully behind a thin curtain of smoke, the smile a little hesitant but growing wider as he leans his head back and exhales fully, slow and long, the lines of his neck and throat delicious things to see. He takes another pull before offering the joint to Severus who takes the thing carefully with his fingertips pinched tightly around the joint, his little finger arched mockingly high as though he’s taking high tea. Lupin snickers, a bit breathlessly as he’s still holding in the smoke, but the sound is infectious and young somehow, and carefree in a way that Severus doesn’t think he’s heard before. He takes a quick pull of the joint, squinting his eyes as the red fire flares and the leaves crackle and one seed pops, the spark momentarily illuminating his hand, and he’s so immersed in the experience of actually smoking cannabis with Lupin that he hasn’t noticed Lupin watching him, but once he does, he sees hunger unmistakably etched in the man’s every line.

The smoke burns slightly as it swirls in Severus’ lungs, and whether it’s from holding his breath or the mind-altering effects of the plant’s leaves, Severus feels slightly light-headed, and the tension that he seems to always carry with him melts away just a fraction. Lupin gestures for the joint and Severus exhales quickly before taking another pull, longer this time, slower, letting it fill him up before passing over to Lupin, who simply smiles and takes another pull.

Things don’t seem to be as sharp any more, but that could be as a result of the almost-setting sun, and anyway, Severus doesn’t feel bothered by it. In fact, he’s… not bothered by anything much at all, and somehow, it’s a relief. Lupin is still smiling at Severus, his eyes blinking slowly, peacefully, and Severus just watches the dappled light making strange and interesting patterns on the other man’s face and neck, chest and arms, trousers, legs, … feet… even the grass is interestingly patterned, but then, looking down at himself, so is he. The patterns move gently, ever changing, and Severus finds them flattering, so much so that he tells himself that he’d like to see them against Lupin’s bare skin. Lupin must be a Legilimens because he sits up, his hands fumbling a bit as he starts unbuttoning his shirt. Severus likes that very much, especially when the skin in question comes into view, and then, he likes it even more. Soon there’s no shirt and Severus wishes that the trousers would make a similar departure - he’s fascinated by the scars on Lupin’s chest and wonders whether they continue further down. As soon as he completes his thought, Lupin is removing his trousers as well, and Severus is really rather pleased to note that the other man wears no pants underneath - free, just the way he likes to see it.

Lupin’s smile really is a contagious thing, and Severus feels himself returning it, and then Lupin is stretched out on the blanket once more, arms flung wide, as though he’s offering himself up to the gods of the patterns. Severus has the urge to examine them closer and he shifts, a bit unsteadily, it’s true, until he is lying on his stomach next to Lupin while closely observing the patterns on the man’s torso and chest. There’s a gentle pulling of his hair and Severus realizes after much thought that Lupin is playing with his hair. It feels rather pleasant, and he closes his eyes for a moment but then the world begins spinning, so he opens them again quickly. There’ll be none of that spinning nonsense, not while he’s trying to conduct research!

Lupin’s skin has a delicious smell to it, of sun-warmed flesh, woodsy outdoors, a faint hint of soap and … something else, something _more_ , and it inspires Severus to move closer - to run his nose along the warm skin, to rest his cheek against Lupin’s chest and smoothe the dappled surface with the flat of his palm, up against the ribs, across the centre of his chest, barely grazing a nipple, then down again, the movement of his hand against the lightly-haired surface intensifying the intoxicating smells. Lupin himself breathes deeply, the exhalation sounding slightly uneven as Severus slides his hand along the flat softness of Lupin’s belly and lower, his fingertips catching on the wiry hairs that surround the now-tumescent cock. Severus feathers his fingers across its breadth, each finger making its individual path, climbing, sliding over and then down the other side as Lupin’s body stiffens. The smell of him is stronger now, and Severus shifts closer, turning his head to rest on Lupin’s stomach while he continues his exploration of the soft flesh of Lupin’s groin, the flat of his palm running along the muscled thigh and down into the space between, the tips of his fingers lightly caressing the hairy bollocks. Lupin stiffens, and his cock jumps against his stomach, the ruddy head straining through the foreskin, the tip glistening as a drop of clear fluid drips down onto his skin. The body beneath Severus’ cheek quivers, the muscles tight yet jumping, and as Severus reaches out with a finger to trace through the drop of precome, Lupin groans, a desperate, needy, guttural sound, and then he’s grabbing Severus by the shoulder and manhandling him to the ground, and Severus goes over easily, and Lupin is on top of him, stretched toe to toe, groin to groin, chest to chest, and he’s devouring Severus’ mouth while grinding their pelvises together.

Severus melts into the kiss, although it can barely be called that, as Lupin is fierce with want and almost brutal, his tongue thrusting into Severus’ mouth and taking, claiming, owning him, and Severus has his hands in Lupin’s hair, gripping but not pulling, just trying to hold on as the waves of sensation crash over him, and Lupin is humping his leg now, the naked glory of him writhing over Severus, and Severus spreads his legs so that Lupin can get closer, and it’s good, so very, very good, and Severus’ cock is harder than he can ever remember it being, the thrill of the man above him on the verge of losing control, driven wild by _him!_ He clings to the heated flesh, pulling him closer, harder on top of him, crushing their bodies together, moving closer, yes, closer, the delicious spirals inside him intensifying, Lupin grunting in his ear….

“Professor! Hello… Professor Snape? Remus? Are you back here-OH MY GOD!!!”

A woman’s voice, little more than a shriek at the end, shatters their frenzied movements as Lupin rolls away into a defensive crouch, his wand at the ready, well, both his wands at the ready, quite frankly. Severus takes in the scene; Hermione Granger standing still, her hands covering her mouth, her eyes enormous, several books scattered around her feet, and then he stares at Lupin’s utter nakedness and his - quite impressive, really - erection and the fierceness of his expression as he recovers from his initial reaction and, Severus can’t help it, he begins to giggle. Now, never let it be said that Severus Snape giggled at any time in his life, except for in this cannabis-induced moment. His giggles become louder and louder until he is laughing uncontrollably at Lupin’s now dour expression. Severus notices that Miss Granger… Weasley…. whatever… is still averting her eyes from Lupin’s obvious nakedness. Lupin, apparently, hasn’t noticed.

“Oh, I’m-I’m so so sooo sorry. I tried Floo calling but there was no reply, and since I know that you both were here I just Apparated into the lane, oh, my, well I- I could have sent an owl, I suppose, but I’ve done some research and… Remus, might you want to… you know, get dressed?”

Severus dissolves in laughter once more as Lupin, looking half-angry, half-abashed, gathers his clothing and retreats into the house with a huff.

“Nice arse, Lupin!” Severus shouts, still laughing as the Granger chit just stares at him in confusion.

“Have some cannabis, Granger, you’ll see. Or, rather, don’t. That arse is mine.”

If possible, Granger looks even more surprised than she was before, and that’s saying something.

 

~~*~~

 

With a sigh, Severus carefully levers himself up from the blanket and tries to assist Granger as she frantically gathers the fallen books. Things are still not as crisp as Severus would like, and he gestures to the table on the patio as he sinks gratefully into one of the chairs. Granger remains standing; it would seem that she is not quite ready for conversation.

“I- really should go, Professor. I’m sorry, truly, but perhaps this should wait for another day.”

“Nonsense. You obviously had something of great importance to tell us, otherwise you would have employed more, shall we say, ‘conventional’ methods of making contact.”

Granger heaves a great sigh and shifts from foot to foot, books still clutched to her chest as though for protection.

“I never meant to interrupt _anything_ , and certainly not…. That!”

“You are a married woman, surely you’re well enough versed with ‘that’?”

Granger opens her mouth, most probably to indignantly spout off chapter and verse on the merits of homosexuality, but fortunately, Lupin returns with tea, biscuits and a slightly mortified expression. They sit, and Lupin pours tea for everyone, but as the minutes pass with barely any conversation, Severus realises that nobody is making eye contact with anyone else. Granger fidgets with the edges of the books - now on the table - as though they are critically important, and Lupin stares studiously into the depths of his cup as though divining the future. Severus regards them both with a modicum of amusement for a moment before he makes an exasperated noise.

“Instead of us all sitting here avoiding each other, perhaps we can discuss what prompted the…. visit?”

If possible, Granger’s colour deepens and her frantic finger movements threaten to destroy the tomes. Severus glances over at Lupin who nods resignedly. _Good,_ Severus thinks. _My head is nowhere near straight enough to deal with this._

“Hermione,” Lupin begins slowly. “Have you found something?”

Granger flashes a strange look at Severus who almost misses it while he contemplates the delicious timbre of Lupin’s voice. _There’s something about that look, though…_

“I’ve been researching memory loss and magic, using some of the books in the Black library, and… I think I may have found something.”

Lupin looks even more delightful when he’s intrigued, Severus notes.

“Really? What kind of ‘something’?”

“Well,” and here she glances at Severus again with the same strange expression. “I was checking the co-relation between sex magic and bonds and their effect on binding of free will. I know that the two of you had a… distinct… relationship,” and here Severus frowns, almost feeling the cogs of the wheels in his brain turning over as he tries to process the information.

“However,” Granger continues, “perhaps that aspect of the relationship and bond is restricting Severus’ memories.”

Lupin appears easily as confused as Severus feels.

“Elaborate, if you would, Miss Granger.”

She glances at Severus nervously before focusing her earnest attention on Lupin. “What if your command of him is preventing him from accessing all of his memories.”

“But I’m not holding Severus back from anything!” Lupin splutters indignantly.

“Not consciously, no, but what if it’s at the magical level? Something completely subconscious?”

Lupin leans back in his chair and takes a deep breath, clearly considering the theory. Severus, however, is confused.

“Lupin, what does she mean ‘your command of me’?”

Granger looks uncomfortable, as does Lupin, and what is left of Severus’ pleasant buzz rapidly dissipates.

“Severus, perhaps we should discuss this later.”

“Now seems to be an excellent time to discuss this.”

Granger stands abruptly. “I really think that I should go now; clearly you two-”

“YOU will sit!” He bellows at Granger. “And YOU,” and here he glares daggers at Lupin. “…. will tell me _exactly_ what she means.”

Severus doesn’t think he’s ever seen Lupin at such a disadvantage, although he may have; he still doesn’t actually know. Either way, the man seems to do battle with himself for a few moments while Granger continues to fidget and Severus counts his own breaths. After seven, Lupin finally looks at him.

“Severus, this is a… rather sensitive subject for you, or, at least,” Lupin frowns. “At least, it used to be.”

“Go on.”

“After the war, your life swung through a series of changes. At first, you were imprisoned for Albus’ death, then pardoned before the trials by Harry’s testimony and the Minister’s influence.”

“Ah, Potter. Always trying to ‘do the right thing’, except when he isn’t, which is often.”

Lupin looks at him admonishingly. “Severus…..”

“Oh, all right, so he got me pardoned. And was I immediately the belle of the ball? The Spy du jour? The most loved and celebrated Death Eater?”

“No. In fact, you hated both the pardon and the attention. You’d said, more than once, that after serving two masters for so long, and for being in the shadows out of necessity, being thrust into the forefront of the newspapers and the daily gossip was overwhelming, and a bit too much for you. You asked me to, for lack of a better word, be your dominant.”

“My… my dominant?”

“Yes, Severus. You weren’t altogether comfortable with suddenly being free from all encumbrances, as it were, and you still wanted a master, in a manner of speaking.”

“Is that right.”

“I wasn’t altogether comfortable with it, but I did what I could to meet your needs. We were bonded, in a way, the first night we tried… you know, and it was awkward, but you gave yourself to me and I accepted you as mine. It wasn’t formal at all, just the two of us, but… well…. you seemed happier and it became a part of who we were, as a couple.”

“And how exactly did I give myself to you?” Although Severus has a pretty good idea, he wants to hear Lupin say it.

“Um, Severus, now really isn’t the best time-”

“Yes, gentlemen” Granger pipes up. “I should leave.”

“No, no, let’s hear it, Lupin. What exactly did we do to ‘bond’.”

If possible, Granger appears to shrink even further into the chair while Lupin looks at him with a mix of pleading and embarrassment. Severus quirks an eyebrow.

He sees the flash of resignation in Lupin’s eyes as the man takes a deep breath.

“Very well.” He turns to Granger. “My apologies, Hermione.”

“I… marked you, inside and out. It was completely spur of the moment; we hadn’t set out to enforce any bond that night, or even discussed _how_ we would go about it, but you’d finally admitted that you needed my help and I was so… so wrapped up in giving us both pleasure, so eager to make you mine…. that perhaps our magic read intent into the coupling - are you _certain_ I need to continue?”

Severus nods, too surprised by his cock’s immediate reaction to Lupin’s description to do anything else.

Lupin looks even more uncomfortable, and Severus hadn’t thought that to be possible.

“You..” he sighs. “You… well, it was all quite frenzied, really. You seemed,” he shifts his eyes quickly in Granger’s direction and then back to Severus’ as he lowers his head, almost whispering. “You wanted me on top, you wanted it hard, rough, desperate, you kept saying things like “take me, Remus” and “yours”, and you completely gave yourself to me - it was profound, really, as though by your admitting that you needed it so much, you were, I don’t know, better able to submit to it?”

Suddenly, certain aspects of their meeting in the hospital with Poppy and Minerva begin to make sense; the way he’d felt when Lupin had put his hand on Severus’ shoulder - firmly, with a no-nonsense feel to it, as though Severus wouldn’t disobey. Yes, he had been angry, and yet Lupin had settled him, apparently without effort, and without Severus knowing _why_.

 

~~*~~

 

Severus barely notices when Granger finally takes her leave. He has been fixated on Lupin’s words and the images they’ve brought forth in his mind _You wanted me on top, you wanted it hard… wanted it hard…hard…hard_ and, okay, _Merlin_ he’s been half-hard ever since. He can’t deny his attraction to Lupin, and he can’t deny that the scenario he’d described sounded urgent and desperate. Despite his arousal, Severus wonders about being in a situation where he would be so desperate that he would beg, that he would yearn for such dominance, when all of his life, dominance and submission had carried with it such serious repercussions. Then again, he _did_ rather enjoy the way Lupin crawled all over him earlier in the day, and there’s an unnamed thrill at the memory of him, desperate, the hunger in his every move, the low growls…

A shadowy movement at the patio doors catches his attention, and Lupin leans against the doorframe, looking at him steadily, and the late-afternoon sun turns his light-brown eyes a dangerous shade of gold as they pin Severus with an intensity that makes Severus feel tingly in a not-altogether unpleasant manner.

“Was that scene completely necessary?”

Ah, Christ. What Severus had taken for intensity is, in fact, annoyance.

“What, our little brainstorming session with the Know-It-All?” he scoffs as he pushes up from the chair. “How did you think that would play out, hmm? Did you think that after her spectacular interruption of our… activities, and the bomb she dropped on me, that, what, everything would continue on as it had before?”

Lupin inclines his chin. “I had hoped we could continue what we were doing in the garden.”

Severus doesn’t really know where his anger comes from, especially since he’s so…

_Hard…_

“And I had _hoped_ , Lupin, that you would have been straight with me, but apart from that being an unfortunate turn of phrase, it appears that you are unable to do so.”

“Do what? Be truthful?”

Severus has had enough, and he brushes past Lupin on his way indoors. “You might have told me.”

Lupin follows closely. “Severus! I didn’t know how much or how little you remembered. I’ve been _trying_ to give you time to work things out for yourself, and this afternoon I _thought_ that things were taking a nice turn toward normalcy.” He suddenly chokes into silence and stops, but doesn’t turn to leave. Instead, he takes a deep breath and continues more slowly but with just as much intensity. "I have tried _so hard_ not to make this about me. To consider you, and only you."

Severus whirls around to face Lupin. Perhaps it’s due to his frustration of having something else that he didn’t know thrown at him, or his unresolved urges towards Lupin or his sexual frustration in general, but he would cheerfully strangle the man. His rigid cock severely hampers his ability to walk normally, his balls ache from being denied release for so long, and it doesn’t help that Lupin is rather delicious when he’s angry. No, really, the way he shifts his stance, very subtly, into a position of dominance and strength, and perhaps Severus is just the slightest bit turned on by that. Perhaps he’s also no longer just angry, but confused and in a fair bit of turmoil. And horny as _hell_!

“Don’t play me, Lupin. Only ONE of us has lost his memory.”

"Dammit, Severus!" Lupin looms closer, seeming to gain in height, and stops toe to toe with Severus. "I _loved_ you, all right? I-" his voice thickens suddenly, and he swallows hard. "Dammit all, I never said it, didn’t think you wanted to hear it, but I did. DO. And I know," his voice trembles, "that you loved me as well, even though you'd never have said it."

Severus is surprised to find himself pushed none-too-gently against the wall as Lupin kisses him, firmly enough that Severus can’t move, and skilfully enough that he doesn’t want to - melting, melting, and the electricity is intense. Severus shudders as his spine tingles with the power of Lupin’s kiss, the force of his character and the delightful lick of tongue against Severus’ lips. There’s a coalescing in his torso, in his stomach; his brain’s gone fuzzy and he wants, wants, wants.

Lupin pulls at their clothes, forcefully, wanting them gone, and Severus is thrilled by the brute strength and the absolute lack of magic. His knees buckle and Lupin manhandles him to the ground, still partly clothed, never breaking the kiss, but when clothing is removed and bare skin exposed, Severus moans when Lupin sucks hard at Severus’ neck and chest, growling barely-coherent words.

“You gave yourself… to me… totally, completely… allowing me everything. I want that back.”

He grabs Severus’ hair with both hands, holding his head still as he plunges his tongue into Severus’ mouth, the kissing as manic as before, as forceful and as possessive, and Severus wants it, he wants to be manhandled, he craves the hard body above his, he craves the way Lupin makes him feel, he wants to open himself to the sensations. Panting harshly, he kicks their remaining clothing away and Lupin slides his leg in between Severus’, aligning their cocks and moving, slowly at first as he lowers his body until they’re once again toe to toe, cock to cock, then faster, their bodies slick with sweat and pre-come, the heavy musk of sex around them like a cloud. Severus wraps his arms around Lupin’s waist, pulling him closer still and it’s all too much; Severus is so close. Desperate, he spreads his legs wider and Lupin crawls on top of him, thrusting fully now, sucking, biting, grunting, panting, growling…

“I want you to… remember… _this_ , Severus. Remember… _this!_ ”

And Severus remembers, he remembers, he _remembers that night, writhing and desperate, as though Remus’ savagery and pounding cock would drive out all other masters; that his sweat and musk would erase the stink of Dark Magic, and that his magic and his come would purge all other controlling magics from Severus’ body._

Severus cries out as he comes hard, and he is flying apart in this exquisite moment - he is a thousand pieces and a thousand things, and as he comes back to himself, to Remus still shuddering through his own climax, memories bloom in Severus’ mind, wheels click into place and his universe aligns. They lie together, breathless, Remus still rocking above him with small, slow thrusts as they kiss, languorously and sated, Severus’ hands exploring and re-learning his lover. He suspects that they’ll go another round or two before the sun is up, but for now, Severus just wants this.

 

~~*~~

 

The first thing that Severus notices when he wakes, blinking in the soft light of dawn, is that he’s alone. Stretching, he remembers last night’s activities, and the aching muscles in his back and legs and the slight burn in his arse are delightful reminders of just how vigorous those activities had been. He takes a deep breath, filling his senses with the lingering scents of Remus and their lovemaking which bring back a flood of memories of mornings spent together, entwined around each other, having breakfast in bed, reading.

So he can’t figure out why Remus isn’t with him now.

In the next instant, he wonders if Remus has disappeared. It’s irrational, perhaps, yet he strains his senses, trying to hear any sounds of movement in the kitchen. There’s a gnawing and unpleasant sensation deep in his gut; he is thankful that he remembers more of what their life used to be, but there’s an uneasy jangling in his mind that something is… different.

Severus grabs his dressing gown and descends the stairs in search of Remus, still feeling off-kilter. He enters the kitchen and notices Remus standing next to the table holding pieces of parchment in his hands. He looks up and regards Severus strangely, and Severus notices that there are several more similar pieces of parchment spread across the surface of the table. When he realizes what Remus has found, for a moment, Severus’ body suddenly feels too big or too small for him, and his stomach twists most disconcertingly .

“Where did you find those?” he asks, perhaps more sharply than he intended.

Remus looks surprised and a bit taken aback as he gestures at the table.

“Right there on the kitchen table. They were in that box.” Remus sounds genuinely confused. “The box had my name on it, and it’s in your handwriting…”

 _My old handwriting._ Severus has noticed that his penmanship has changed somewhat since his surgery. The letters are still small, but much less cramped and crabbed than before - they flow much more easily now.

“Severus, I’m sorry. I thought- never mind what I thought.”

“Give them to me!”

“What are you afraid of?”

“I- am not afraid.”

“Then what would you call-” Remus gestures at Severus. “All this?”

“Righteous indignation!”

“That’s bollocks, and you know it.”

Severus is suddenly tired. “Just … just give them to me.”

“Explain this one.” Remus’ voice is soft, but not gentle.

“What?”

“I’ll give them to you - all of them, but I want you to explain this one.”

Severus rather fears he knows to which note Remus is referring, and he closes his eyes briefly for a moment before holding out his hand. The soft parchment is laid gently in his palm, and he fights against the urge to crush it in his fist. _All the years of secrecy, hiding, protecting myself… and all brought down by one piece of paper._

“Severus.”

He opens his eyes to the truth written on the paper.

_I may be different… after. I only hope that when I recover from this surgery, I am not changed so much that I will not recognise the enormous impact that Remus has had on my life. If I do in fact change, how can I be certain that he will accept me?_

_I cannot imagine involving myself with another to the extent that I have done with Remus, for I know that without him I could never be… content.._

Severus closes his eyes, feeling betrayed in a way; betrayed by himself, and betrayed by Remus for finding these and reading them, even though they’re _about_ him.

He grits his teeth and searches for words to explain.

“When I wrote these notes, I didn’t know whether I would survive the surgery or whether I, as a person, would even exist anymore; at least, not all of me. I wondered whether you would accept a new version of me.”

Remus’ eyes are sympathetic as he approaches slowly. “Severus, I thought we were past this.”

But Severus backs away, his hands up. “Remus, up until last night, I couldn’t remember the minutiae of loving you before, yet I obviously did, and very deeply so. I feared that what I felt- _what I feel_ for you in this ’new’ relationship, still in its infancy, couldn’t compare with what I was to you, or what you were to me.”

“Severus,” Remus says, his tone gentle as he reaches for Severus’ hands, the parchment crushing softly between their palms. “I’m very happy with the man I have.”

“But I’m no longer that man you knew, Remus. The anger and the bitterness that seemed to consume so much of me then; I don’t have that now. It’s almost as though it’s been burned away, leaving me with a different, and, dare I say, much better outlook on life.”

“It’s been burned away by the flames of our love?” Remus jokes, and it’s just enough to break the tension.

Severus huffs a laugh and feels a weight drop from his shoulders. “Perhaps.”

“Okay, then let’s just take this slowly and see if you like me well enough this time around.”

It’s Remus’ sudden change of expression that does it, Severus thinks, that ‘come-hither’ look that truly should not be legal. He stalks forward, almost before he realizes it, making Remus take a step backwards and then another until he’s against the kitchen counter, and he presses himself onto Remus, groin to groin in a way that’s so delicious that they both groan.

“Oh, I think I like you well enough already,” he growls against Remus’ ear, the words sounding rough because he just can’t _think_ properly when his senses are full of Remus. Muscles, firm and solid under his hands, skin, warm to the touch, the scent and taste of him, and the way he arches under the attention. The excitement begins to build inside Severus again, he can feel it along the front of his thighs where they press against Remus’, he can feel it along his spine where Remus’ hands grip hard and then soothe, and he can feel it in his chest, a swirling, maddening, breathtaking pull of pure _want._

He pushes Remus backwards, but Remus won’t have any of it; instead he fists his hand in Severus’ hair, pulling his head back and to the side, and Severus hisses as his muscles protest, but Remus’ mouth is on his neck, licking, sucking, biting, marking, and Severus can only take ragged breaths through his clenched teeth. His mind explodes with memories of countless other times he’s been claimed by this man as the low growls and the musky scent of sex rises between them. His head swims and he’s certainly more aroused than he ever thought he could be.

He opens his mouth to - what, moan? He doesn’t even know, but Remus plunders his mouth, tongue asserting itself between Severus’ teeth and sliding along his tongue, and fuck! Remus ruts against him, as hard as Severus is himself.

“Off. Now. Clothes.”

The words are growled against his lips and Severus nods; he’s almost as incoherent in his own thoughts, and they stumble a bit as Remus removes his garments, not wanting to break body contact nor stop the kissing. Gasping, they part for breath, throwing shirts and trousers and dressing gowns to all corners of the room.

Severus watches avidly as Remus takes his own cock in hand and strokes himself. “Get down there,” he growls, his hand never stopping the movement on his cock, and Severus is on his knees before he can even process the thought.

“Rub your face on it.”

Severus does, obeying without hesitation. The texture of the hair, soft yet wiry, the impossible _heat_ coming from Remus’ groin and the warm, heavy scent of musk and man wash over Severus. He closes his eyes and buries his nose in the hair, rubbing his face through the thick patch of curls even as his hands reach between Remus’ legs to fondle his bollocks. He spreads his legs wider, and Severus runs his nose along the underside of Remus’ cock before tilting his head and licking a broad stripe along the underside.

Severus wants that cock on his tongue, in his arse; he wants to wrap his legs around Remus’ waist and take him deep inside his body, but he doesn’t know how to articulate that, so he just surrenders himself to Remus and whatever he wants.

Above him, Remus moans, but his firm grip in Severus’ hair is a clear signal to stop. Remus fumbles with his wand and hastily transfigures a mattress out of a kitchen towel, then shoves Severus unceremoniously down onto it and straddles his legs. Adrenaline mixes potently in Severus’ blood and body and mind, his nerves pinging at every point of contact between their bodies. Remus settles over Severus’ groin and takes both their cocks firmly in one hand, and Severus groans at the picture it makes, the two cock-heads glistening and straining against each other in the tunnel of Remus’ fingers, their slits spreading obscenely wide like hungry mouths as they push through the tight fist. He’s going to come, Merlin, he‘s close, but he doesn’t want to, not yet! He closes his eyes, trying desperately to think of potions ingredients or Dumbledore’s saggy arse, but Remus is moving against him now, undulating and pushing their cocks harder and faster, and Severus tries to move too, to thrust or do _something!_

Remus’ focus is completely on their cocks squeezing together over and over and Severus just can’t hold back any longer. His orgasm seems to come from deep inside him, almost as though it pulls magic and sensation from his legs, his chest, his arms, funnelling through his groin and bursting helplessly in Remus’ hands, and Remus is coming with a shout, shuddering, his hands moving faster now as he finishes them both off, their semen painting his hand and Severus’ chest. The scent of their combined essence is thick around them, and in a burst of memories, Severus is free; free in a way he’s never felt before, his mind flying, his body singing, his heart pounding as he comes down slowly from the most intense orgasm of his life.

Remus collapses forward onto Severus’ chest, breathing heavily, and Severus just holds him there, feeling the answering thudding of Remus’ heart hard against his own. A warmth spreads over him, a comforting sense of deep satisfaction and rightness that seems to flow both to and from Remus, leaving in its wake a curious lightness of being.

Later, as they lie casually entwined together on the large mattress, Severus feels extraordinarily content.

“You know, Remus, there maybe something to this dominance thing after all.”

“Really? You’d want to continue?”

“Perhaps not exactly as before; I don’t think that I _need_ it, per se, but it would seem that I rather enjoy a good firm hand from time to time.”

Remus sits up now, leaning on one elbow with a semi-disbelieving smile on his face.

“This is quite a different Severus Snape. Next you’ll be telling me that you love me!”

Suddenly, everything is very, very still, and Severus sees the moment like a snapshot; Remus’ expression of amusement morphing quickly into surprise, perhaps even shock that he’s said it so plainly. Severus feels as though he’s taken a punch to the stomach, so intense is his reaction, and in the next moment, Remus is full of apologies.

“Severus, I’m sorry.”

“Remus. Don’t-”

“I-I didn’t mean-”

“But why? I mean, I do.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Is that so strange?”

“I… don’t know. I knew you did; or rather, I _thought_ you did, and, Merlin knows _I_ did, but maybe I’d just accepted that I wouldn’t hear it.”

“Was it taboo?”

“It wasn’t really taboo; we just… never said it. It was like a door we never opened.”

“We were remiss in that.”

Remus makes a sound of agreement as he lies half on top of Severus.

“We were. But this is a new beginning for us and a chance for us to do it better this time.”

“You’re beginning to sound like a romantic, Lupin.”

Remus flashes a most insouciant grin. “Oh, Severus, surely you remember? I’m a hopeless romantic; chocolate and hearts and everything.”

Severus groans. “Oh, dear Merlin, I‘m going to need more cannabis.”

And Lupin is on top of him now, all warm skin and roaming hands, and as they roll around on the mattress together, kissing and laughing and making new memories in the mid-afternoon sunlight, all is well.

** end **

**Author's Note:**

> **Curry and memory - (http://nutrition.about.com/od/askyournutritionist/f/curry.htm )


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